


Answer My Calls

by Melira



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, One-Shot, set somewhere in season one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 13:33:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17623322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melira/pseuds/Melira
Summary: When Mike doesn't answer his phone, Harvey gets a distinct feeling that something has gone wrong.





	Answer My Calls

**Author's Note:**

> I've been infected with Suits a few days ago and while I was studying for my next exam, a plot bunny violently attacked me and wouldn't let go again, until I surrendered. In my defense: I was studying for Medical Psychology and was halfway through the chapter "Emotions" in that moment. Which might explain the content of this short piece... If I fail said exam, I blame Harvey! Not that he would care, but anyways.

Harvey knew that something was wrong the moment Mike didn’t answer his phone.

It was just a gut feeling but he had learned to trust those, they barely ever deceived him. And with that particular case currently on their hands, caution was paramount so he was sure not to write the instinct off as a misleading impression.

You didn’t just stand between a multi-million-dollar company with suspected ties to organised crime and a former employee, who had turned on it, without glancing over your shoulder every once in a while. Or every twice in a while. They wouldn’t be the first lawyers into whose homes was broken in coincidentally at the same time they were investigating and collecting evidence against a large and dubious organisation.

So when his call went to voicemail, Harvey was out of his chair before it was finished instructing him to leave a message after the signal.

“If this is you wilfully ignoring my order to always answer your phone no matter what time I call you, make sure you clear your desk properly when you leave the office for the last time tomorrow.”

Harvey knew his threat was hollow, just his way of expressing worry, and Mike probably would, too. Kid was too damn smart for his own good, and had learned to read him faster than Harvey liked to admit. But he didn’t care. Not right now. Not when said kid wasn’t responding.

And if it turned out Mike really had just been ignoring his phone, well, then Harvey might as well make good on his implied promise and personally see him out the door of Pearson/Hardman.

On his way to the elevator he pulled on his suit jacket, then rather impatiently hit the ‘down’-button, while his mind tried to come up with likely locations he might find his associate. Most probable was that dump he called his apartment and although Harvey had sworn never to set foot even near that building, he was quick to throw that resolution out of the window when he told the cab driver the address.

Just another reason to tear the kid a new one should this turn out to be a false alarm.

The ten minutes on comparatively empty nocturnal streets surprisingly felt like half an hour at least. Half an hour during which he dialled Mike’s number three more times, only the first time bothering to talk to the voicemail again, the second and third hanging up after the fourth ring.

Not caring to get his change, he left the surprised driver with a hundred dollar bill and the instruction to wait for him for ten minutes and then leave in case he didn’t come back.

“Better be at home with your headphones on so I get the tour back for my money after giving you a thorough dressing down”, he threatened the younger man under his breath while he walked up to the door and pressed every single bell.

A few rather confused voices answered but he didn’t bother explaining himself, just waited for someone to open the door anyway.

When he arrived at the apartment labelled ‘Ross’, he ignored the bell and banged at the wood once. “Mike, you better open up this instant or I’ll fire you!”

The seconds passed and nothing happened. He repeated the procedure twice to the same outcome, then took a closer look at the door. It seemed fully intact, no signs of forced entry and no light shining through from under it.

“Damn it, you never made it this far, did you?”, Harvey swore silently and turned on his heels, all but running down the stairs again. Back on the street, his cab was still waiting, the driver looking expectantly at him, but he ignored both.

Following an instinct, he quickly walked down the street in the direction Mike should have come from on his way back home from the office. The first alley he came by was empty but for a few dumpsters.

When he neared the second one, though, he saw a bike practically crashed against the adjacent wall. He didn’t have an eye for bikes, they weren’t cars after all, but this one looked distinctly familiar.

His steps accelerated and within seconds he had reached the alley’s entrance.

It was typical New York. Dark, murky and mostly empty. But in the distance, almost at the dead-end, there was something sticking out from behind one of the dumpsters.

The poor lighting made it hard to see but it looked like a shoe. Probably a very expensive shoe, made of Italian leather. And paid for with his money.

“God dammit!”, he swore and broke into a run for the last few meters.

Next to the wall, his body slumped to the ground, was Mike Ross, limbs sprawled across the cold pavement and blood trickling down his face. His helmet lay abandoned a few feet away, split in half, his eyes were closed.

Getting down on his knees beside him, Harvey’s hand instantly went for the kid’s pulse. It was there, weak but steady. He carefully turned Mike on his back and checked his skull for noticeable cracks. There were none. One hand on the kid’s slowly raising and falling chest, he tapped his face with the other.

“Come on, Mike, wake up.”

After a few seconds, the younger man’s eyes opened a little but didn’t focus.

“Here we go. Now, look at me.” Harvey fixated his head with his free hand, directing his line of sight at him.

“Look at me. Come on, Mike, look at me.” Slowly, the usually blue but in the dark alley black eyes turned towards him.

“That’s right. Now stay focused. Come on, I know you can do it.”

“Harvey.” The voice was weak, the word broken, but Harvey didn’t care. The boy saw him and he recognised him. That was enough for the moment.

“Yes, Harvey. Who else would come out here to save your sorry ass in the middle of the night, huh?” He got a barely perceptible smile for that.

“I told you to be careful while the trial against Morrison is still on. And I told you months ago, going to work by bike isn’t appropriate. Now see what it got you not to heed my words!”

“I’ll do better, promise”, came the slurry response.

“Yeah, you better. And don’t you dare ignoring my phone calls again or I’ll make you work with Louis for the next three months”, Harvey threatened while picking up the remains of Mike’s cell, inspecting the broken display and the missing keys. Then he pulled out his own, one hand still on Mike’s chest, and dialled.

“I’ll try”, the kid replied with an obviously painful half-nod. Harvey just raised his eyebrows at him as a voice answered his call.

“911, what is your emergency?”

**Author's Note:**

> As this is my first piece for this fandom and I haven't written something new in ages, I'd love to get some feedback, be it positive or negative.


End file.
